


you exist (and that is enough)

by gentlelogic



Series: The Human!Sides College AU Verse [7]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Dogs, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied violent content, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicide Attempt, implied PTSD, told from a perspective of a dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 13:30:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21198449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gentlelogic/pseuds/gentlelogic
Summary: In Smokey’s opinion, Virgil deserves a medal. A big huge medal that would cover every single inch of his walls. She doesn’t think Virgil hangs the sun and the moon like Johnathon and Grace seem to think she believes. No. Virgil need not do something like that to be special and amazing and wonderful.Virgil exists. Even when he doesn’t want to. And Smokey thinks that’s pretty darn brave.





	you exist (and that is enough)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a pre-main storyline fic about Virgil and even though I don't go into any form of graphic detail, I'm sure y'all know the heavy subject matter dealt with in Virgil's storyline. 
> 
> So, warnings for implied gun violence, suicidal thoughts, implied/referenced self-harm, and implied suicide attempt.

Smokey loves Virgil- adores him, really. Personally, if there were a “Best Human Ever” award, Smokey would vote for Virgil to win. Because Virgil is the best, and that is that.

She remembers the day she came home- when Mr. Jonathon and Mrs. Grace had walked into the pound and knelt before her cage. She remembers their smiling faces until Grace’s had twisted in sympathy when the Man in Charge had explained how they’d found Smokey in a garbage pin with a broken snout. Smokey doesn’t remember it that well, so it doesn’t upset her, but it upsets Grace. So, as the big humans talk, she licks Grace’s palms. Tries to communicate that everything is okay.

Later that day, Smokey had walked out to a slightly messy minivan and sat on Jonathon’s warm lap as Grace drove them home. Jonathon even rolled down the window and let Smokey stick her head out to feel the cool breeze slip through her fur.

Once they made it home, Smokey hopped out of the car excitedly. Johnathon was laughing as they trotted up the door together. He pulled out a round circle of little metal things that Smokey thought would make a good snack, but Johnathon didn’t seem to agree. He stuck them inside a door and swung it open.

A boy shot through the living room and flung his arms around Jonathon. Grace was grinning.

“We’ve hardly been gone a couple hours, Virgil,” she said.

Virgil stuffed his hands in his pockets with a smile. “I know,” he said. “But you got her!”

“We did,” Grace said. “And there’s going to be some rules. She’s not potty trained very well so we need to be diligent-”

Smokey tuned out her boring adult words after that. Virgil seemed to as well, crouching down on the floor to run his hands through her fur. Smokey felt every protective and loving instinct fire off within her heart. She nuzzled her nose into the crook of Virgil’s arm and hoped he understood. He was hers and she would make him happier than any other boy in the world has ever felt. She loved him. She’d always love him.

Even when the biggest sadness fell over the house.

*

The only way Smokey knows how to describe it is that one day, Virgil was a normal, if a bit of an angsty, teenager. Then, the next day, he came home shaking so bad that Smokey worried his poor little insides would be all messed up.

A couple nights later, he laid in bed and sobbed, muffled into his pillow so that Johnathon and Grace wouldn’t hear. She curled beside him, as close as she could. She was worried. Virgil had cried before- but never like this. Never so broken. And never so that Mr. Jonathon and Mrs. Grace wouldn’t hear.

Virgil turned around on his pillow, so he was facing Smokey. His eyes were blotchy and red, dark bags smeared under them.

“I wanna die,” he whispered. “I deserve to die. I deserve to die.”

Smokey didn’t know what those words meant, but the way they were said felt so malicious and harmful and awful. Especially with the way Virgil was trembling and crying like he would never be okay again.

“I don’t deserve to live,” he said.

Smokey’s heart hurt and she didn’t know what to do. She stood up and hopped off the bed. Virgil sat up, frowning.

“Even you don’t wanna be around me,” he whispered.

Smokey jumped up to the door. Johnathon and Grace would know what to do. But Virgil’s door was shut, as usual, and her paws were no good for opening them. She started scratching at the door.

“Smokey, what are you doing? Stop that,” Virgil hissed.

She let out a loud bark. Virgil flinched.

“Smokey, stop. You’ll wake up my parents.”

Smokey barked louder and scratched harder. Virgil threw aside his cover and prepared to stand, but before he could, his door opened, and Johnathon stood in the doorway.

Smokey jumped onto Johnathon’s thighs and licked his face frantically. _Help Virgil_, she begged. _Help him, please._

Johnathon ran a hand over her head and said, “It’s okay, girl.” Smokey calmed down.

Johnathon shut the door behind him quietly and flicked on the light. Virgil stared from his bed, a guilty and horrified look on his face. Like he had caught him doing something awful like chewing Grace’s socks or eating Johnathon’s breakfast eggs- but worse. So much worse than Smokey could comprehend.

Johnathon slowly made his way across the room and slowly sat down on Virgil’s bed. Smokey hopped up and laid beside Johnathon’s lap, hoping that Virgil would understand she was letting him have her place there.

Virgil didn’t, apparently. He seemed frozen in place, staring at his dad with silent tears running down his face. Johnathon reached out a hand and with careful, methodical slowness, he laid it on the side of Virgil’s face. Virgil flinched violently, but leaned into the hand, more tears running down his face.

“Virgil,” Johnathon said in his very serious Adult voice that Smokey rarely heard him use. “Buddy. You are not alone. Mom and I are right here, you understand?”

Virgil nodded and his lip wobbled. Smokey whined quietly. She hated not knowing what to do.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Johnathon said. “It wasn’t. I don’t give a damn what your uncle or aunt say. It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was,” Virgil whispered.

Johnathon shook his head. His hand moved to Virgil’s shoulder, and he squeezed. “It absolutely was not. You’re a kid. You made a mistake. That gun never should have been where it was. It shouldn’t have been in that house at all, if you ask me.”

Virgil was still shaking. “I’m scared.”

“Of what, kiddo?” Johnathon’s voice was so soft and gentle, and Smokey hoped Virgil understood that voice meant that Johnathon cared about Virgil and loved him _so much_.

“Everything,” Virgil whispered. “I think… I think I deserve the death penalty.”

Johnathon tensed. Every muscle in his body seemed to turn into stone. Smokey whined again and crawled closer to the two of them without breaking their contact.

“Virgil. I mean this very seriously. You do not deserve the death penalty. You didn’t fire that gun. You didn’t want that gun fired at all. Hell, you didn’t know it existed.”

“But it happened. I didn’t watch good enough and I-” Virgil burst into tears. “He died. I deserve to die too. I deserve to die. I deserve to get shot too-”

“Virgil!” Johnathon was sounding very alarmed and Smokey was feeling his fear in her whole body. This word _die_ was giving her a lot of bad feelings.

“Don’t try to lie to me, Dad!” Virgil snapped. “I’m a murderer.”

“You are not. You are not, absolutely not.”

Virgil flung his dad’s hand off his shoulder. “I am!” He immediately burst into gut-wrenching wails and without missing a beat, Johnathon gathered all of Virgil into his arms and pulled him close.

“I wanna die,” Virgil whimpered. “I deserve it. I deserve it.”

Johnathon said nothing. He closed his eyes tightly, his own tears running down his face. Smokey stood up and licked them, then nudged at Virgil’s trembling hands. Virgil ran his trembling hands over Smokey, the barest trace of a smile ghosting his face.

“It’s gonna get better, Virgil,” Johnathon said. “I promise.”

*

The morning was softer and less scary somehow. Smokey was exhausted—she had stayed up throughout the night, watching over her boy anxiously. Johnathon had fallen asleep in Virgil’s bed and when he had woken up, Smokey watched him go into the bathroom and call off work.

The breakfast conversation between Grace, Johnathon, and Virgil was very odd for Smokey. They all spoke very formally—far more formally than Smokey had ever seen from the family. A lot of words she didn’t understand were thrown in like “suicidal,” “depression,” trauma,” and, “psychologist.” She sat under the table, resting her snout on her paws and waited until the conversation dwindled into something more lighthearted.

Johnathon cleared the table while Grace went into the living room and put a DVD into the player. Smokey was pretty sure that day was what Virgil called a School day (or sometimes called them Hell days, but Johnathon and Grace didn’t approve of that one as much). A school day wasn’t a day the family watched TV or sat around together, but they did anyway. Virgil curled between Johnathon and Grace and Smokey hopped up on Virgil’s lap to make sure nobody forgot about her.

When Virgil fell asleep and Johnathon started nodding off, Grace laid a hand on Smokey’s a head, a thing Smokey really liked. Grace’s hand was comforting and gentle and warm.

“Good girl,” Grace said. “You’re a good girl.”

Smokey whined softly and laid her head in Grace’s lap.

Grace thought she was a good girl, and that was all that mattered.

*

Things got even darker and sadder around the house. Smokey wished she knew better what was going on. When Grace would collapse in the kitchen and sob, Smokey would rush over to her and bark, then lick her face until Grace would crack the tiniest smile. When Johnathon would lay his head on the table and tremble a lot like Virgil, Smokey would lay her head in his lap and he’d mechanically met her until he rose to do whatever he was supposed to.

And Virgil. Virgil changed. His personality was the same. He still was the same sarcastic, sweet, lovely boy who’d bury himself in a hoodie and lay against Smokey’s chest and read to her. But he changed in a way Smokey couldn’t describe.

He’d sleep far later than what he usually did. He stopped walking Smokey and soon enough, Johnathon took up the job. He’d feed Smokey, but he did it real slow, like his body hurt to move too much. There weren’t many School days anymore like there used to be. He stopped listening to his music real loud—when it’d play too loud, Virgil would flinch and shake all over.

Worst of all, late in the nights, Virgil would wake up and tremble and cry. And then say the words, “I deserve to die.” Smokey still couldn’t figure out what they meant. But they meant something bad. So, when Virgil would try to get up and go to the bathroom, Smokey would lay on his stomach to keep him in her sight. She trusted Virgil with just about anything.

Just, perhaps, not with himself anymore.

*

Something called a “graduation” came up. It sounded fun! But Smokey knew she probably wouldn’t be allowed to come. At least she would get to wait at home and when Virgil would come back, she could greet him and show him just how much of a good boy he was by giving him all the kisses she could.

Johnathon and Grace left earlier in the day, Virgil assuring them he’d catch a ride to the school later. Smokey knew something was off, but Johnathon and Grace just kissed his head and told him they’d see him there.

Virgil put on his suit and looked at himself in the mirror. He did that trembling thing again and his hands were shaking so bad that he could barely adjust his tie.

He knelt in front of Smokey and kissed her nose. “Love you girl,” he said.

His voice was wrong. Strangled. Just like the nights where he’d cry in bed. Smokey worriedly followed him into the kitchen where Virgil pulled a chair from the table and boosted it against the fridge. He climbed and grabbed the knife block Johnathon had moved atop the fridge after a long argument he’d had with Virgil a couple months ago. Smokey whined softly, silently begging Virgil to get down. He was scaring her.

Virgil just smiled.

“Mom and Dad will be fine. They’ll take care of you.” Virgil pulled out one knife then slowly climbed down. Smokey’s heart was racing. She barked loudly.

“It’s gonna be fine,” Virgil snapped. “Please, shut up!”

Smokey did, ears flattening. Virgil immediately burst into tears and dropped the knife onto a countertop.

“I’m so sorry, girl. I didn’t mean—you’re a good girl. I’m sorry.”

Smokey whined softly, resisting the urge to bark.

“Be good,” Virgil said. He grabbed the knife again and climbed back up the stairs. Smokey followed him until Virgil went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Smokey whined loudly and tried to slide her nose under the bathroom door.

She heard Virgil cry and talk to himself with a bunch of words she couldn’t understand. Then quiet. Then.

Blood. Smokey smelled blood.

Smokey wailed. She barked. She howled. She scratched at the door until wood was chipping off. She barked and barked and barked until she heard the front door open and Grace and Jonathan yelling out in worry.

Smokey heard Virgil unlock the door as soon as Johnathon and Grace started banging on it. Smokey nosed her way under Johnathon and Grace towards Virgil, who was crumpled, sobbing on the cool tile.

There was more blood than Smokey had ever seen in her life. As scared as she was, she sat right beside her family until men in uniforms came in and carried Virgil away.

Smokey didn’t see Virgil for a long time after that.

*

Smokey’s never been good with time—perhaps Virgil was only gone for a few weeks or days or hours. But it felt like forever. It felt like years where Grace would break down sobbing at the table. It felt like months upon months of Johnathon going through the day, forgetting to eat, forgetting to sleep.

Smokey tried her best to take care of them. She’d drop her stuffed toys at Grace’s feet when Grace would start crying while toweling her hair. Smokey would lie at Johnathon’s feet while he cooked dinner and when Johnathon would break down, Smokey would jump up and make Johnathon hold her paws for a minute.

Sometimes, she’d manage to get a small smile from Johnathon and Grace. Sometimes, Smokey would lie on the couch and let the two snuggle together and hold each other. Sometimes, on a really good night, they’d laugh with each other. And Smokey will feel a little more settled down than she has in quite a while.

There was a scary thought at the back of her head—that maybe that scary word, _die_, was what happened to Virgil. Maybe it meant that Virgil wouldn’t come back. But that thought was too much, too heavy to bear.

So, Smokey kept on. She’d keep Virgil’s parents safe until he came home.

*

Eventually, Virgil came home. Some of the darkness in eyes was gone. He’d put on a little weight and his hair was longer. His favourite hoodie was left unzipped but wrapped securely around his upper body. He looked a little sheepish and nervous—but Johnathon had his hand wrapped around his son’s shoulder, steadying him, his smile gentle as ever. And Grace’s hand was looped in Virgil’s, that same gentle smile on her face.

“Welcome home, buddy,” Jonathan said softly. “Smokey’s missed you.”

Virgil squatted down, and that was all the permission Smokey needed to bound over to him and leap into his waiting arms. She eagerly licked his nose and his cheeks and his hands and his shoes, then flopped over, waiting for one of Virgil’s signature Belly Rubs. Virgil obliged, a big smile on his face as he did so.

Virgil leaned over and whispered, very quietly so that only Smokey could hear, “I’m not gonna do it again, girl.” He sounded choked; his voice was wobbly and small. Smokey licked his face, and the smile broke out again. “You’re one of the reasons I won’t. You know that? You’re a special girl.”

Smokey woofed in agreement; she was special! But not nearly as special as Virgil.

*

In Smokey’s opinion, Virgil deserves a medal. A big huge medal that would cover every single inch of his walls. She doesn’t think Virgil hangs the sun and the moon like Johnathon and Grace seem to think she believes. No. Virgil need not do something like that to be special and amazing and wonderful.

Virgil exists. Even when he doesn’t want to. And Smokey thinks that’s pretty darn brave.

fin.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm having a bit of a rough time and I wrote this. Usually I project onto Logan but Virgil was my victim this time. 
> 
> Love y'all. Keep safe.


End file.
